|
|
|
|
|
|
where," but he was careful not to investigate the suspicion, and to order Sir Robert to ignore all hints on the subject. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They had still been probing and testing for weaknesses in the defenses when Ian had received the appeal for "justice" from his vassals in the north. With the message, which had been sent on from Roselynde, was a letter from Alinor asking that, if he decided to ride north, he would stop by Roselynde and give her his company as far as Monmouth, where Isobel expected to be confined within a week or two. Without more ado, Ian had abandoned the direction of the siege to Sir Robert and the eldest and steadiest of the loyal castellans, and had ridden home. It was unfortunate that he was so torn between hope and fear that he did not recognize the cold hand and averted eyes Alinor offered were a duplication of his own unhappy emotions. In that instant he had flown from disappointed hope to rage, and when he woke no more response in his wife than silence or a faltered apology for her inability to please him, despair had swallowed reason. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Perhaps it should have been as clear to Ianwho had known Alinor as long as Isobel hadthat no clash of wills could produce such results. Alinor simply avoided contests of will by doing what she liked and facing the consequences when they came, or she argued loud and long. Ian knew it, but, in the throes of the pain, he never questioned why he was suffering. He endured what he could and ran away when he could endure no more. Now, with his affairs settled so unseasonably soon, he was faced with a renewal of his agony before his wounds had scabbed over. Moreover, he had not received word from Alinor, who would, he was sure, write to tell him of Isobel's condition and delivery. That meant the child had not yet been born. Ian had no intention of cooling his heels in Monmouth while he awaited this event. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Desperation lent spurs to memory, and Ian recalled |
|
|
|
|
|